


A Different Blue

by Raufnir



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Background Ignoct, Break Up, Cheating, Drama, Gladio has a temper, Gladio is a big dummy but his heart is in the right place, Hurt, IgNoct, M/M, Prompto is a sweetheart, i just love these two, promptio
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-08
Updated: 2017-03-15
Packaged: 2018-10-01 04:35:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10180844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raufnir/pseuds/Raufnir
Summary: Gladio makes a mistake in a club on the night that Noct and Prompto graduate from high school, and it leaves Prompto devastated and full of self-doubt.Expect angst, hurt, and the ending...? Well, you'll have to read it to find that out. It's a complete work, posted in instalments, and it's the first FFXV Fanfic I've posted on here, other than my quick one-shot Gladio x reader one. Hope you like it!





	1. Shock

The prince froze as he entered the club ahead of him, and Prompto careered into his back. “Oof, Noct? We’re not underage anymore you know?” he laughed. “Come on, Gladdy’s already here. Let’s find him.”

“Prompto, don’t,” Noctis urged, his voice strained as he turned round, holding his hands up, his blue eyes wide with horror. 

But it was too late for caution, too late for warnings. Prompto had seen over his shoulder what the prince had seen, and it made his heart shatter into a thousand tiny fragments.

“Don’t go in there. Don’t do this to yourself.”

But there it was.

Well, there _he_ was. All six foot five of gorgeous man pressed up against the waif-like body of a woman on the dancefloor. Gods, she was beautiful, with ash-blonde hair and a devilish leather ensemble. Right up Gladio’s street. The world twisted sideways as the sight kicked him in the gut.

“What?” he breathed in disbelief. He felt his body start to shake.

His teeth bit hard into his lower lip. So hard he thought he tasted blood. His chin trembled as he fought off tears of shock, and he just stood there, watching Gladio pull her in for a kiss of animal ferocity. Those huge hands worked their way up and down her lithe back – those hands which had, only that morning, been all over Prompto as they’d lain in bed together in Gladio’s apartment.

He felt something crack deep in his chest.

There was a steadying hand on his shoulder. “Prompto, don’t look. Come away.” It was Ignis. Calm and steady as a rock as always.

And then Gladio came up for air and looked round, and saw him. His hands stuttered on the woman’s sides, and he took half a faltering step towards Prompto.

Those burning amber eyes took in the small, swaying figure of the eighteen year old who had gone white as milk, his delicate lips pink and swollen from where he’d been biting them to stop himself crying. And then, when those burning amber eyes realised exactly what they had just seen, they went wide as the sun. _Prompto_. He saw Gladio’s lips form his name, but the pounding bass of the club kept them from sounding it aloud. Good. He didn’t want to hear it anyway.

He let Ignis steer him out of the club and into his car, just catching Gladio barging his way towards him. But Ignis, in all his blessed efficiency, had somehow got Prompto from the room, scooped up Noctis on the way out, and had bundled both the boys into the back of the car before Gladio could extricate himself from the woman and shove his way out of the crowd.

Prompto forced himself to keep his eyes on Ignis’ headrest as the car pulled away, and not to turn around to see if Gladio had made it out of their favourite club in time to see the car drive off with Prompto in the back seat.

“This was supposed to have been fun,” he said, his voice not sounding like his own. “This was supposed to be a celebration of finishing high school… this was…”

“I told you,” Noctis said petulantly.

“Noct,” Ignis warned.

“What?” Noct gave a shrug. “I told him right at the beginning that I couldn’t see Gladio settling down with one person. I’m amazed they’ve lasted a year.”

“Your remarks are not helping, Noct,” Ignis persisted, eyes flashing in the rear view mirror.

The prince turned to his friend, who was still staring fixedly at the black cushion of Ignis’ headrest, and he reached his pale hand out to touch Prompto’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, Prom, I really am. You can stay with me and Ig for as long as you need, you know that, right?”

Prompto blinked and gave him a watery smile. The image of that woman wrapping herself around Gladio, grinding her hips into his, was seared excruciatingly into his memory. He’d known Gladio was bi, but he never worried about him looking at girls while they’d been together. It had never occurred to him.

The next few hours were strange. Ignis drove him to Gladio’s apartment, and they lingered awkwardly while Prompto rushed to gather all his belongings before Gladio came back. His phone was ringing, but he thrust it at Ignis and said, “I can’t.”

Ignis didn’t answer it, but turned it off instead. “He can wait.”

When he’d scrambled around stuffing clothes into bags and packing up everything else he valued, including his precious cameras, Prompto came back into the living room and dumped the last of the three bags on top of the other two. He was sure he’d left stuff, but he didn’t care at that point. He looked at Ignis and Noctis, his only remaining friends in the whole world, and when he saw the helpless expressions on their faces, he burst into tears.

Noctis was the first to move. He stepped over the luggage and embraced his friend warmly. The prince wasn’t usually one for physical displays of affection, but when he gave a hug, it was heartfelt. Ignis came over and laid a hand tenderly on Prompto’s head and stroked his soft blond hair. “Come on,” he said after a little while. “We should go.”

Ignis picked up two of the bags, and Noctis went for the last one, leaving Prompto to lock up the apartment for the last time, shoving the keys roughly through the letterbox, and they filed out into the street. Once the car was loaded up, they drove to Noct’s city apartment, and by the time they got inside the penthouse Prompto was exhausted. It was half eleven at night, and he’d had one of the longest days of his life.

“Would you like anything to eat?” Ignis asked. “It’s been a long time since the graduation lunch.”

 _Ever the mother hen_ , Prompto thought with a tiny smile. “No, I’m good. I’m gonna shower and hit the sack if that’s ok.”

“You do as you please,” Ignis smiled gently. “The spare room is available for you for as long as you need.”

“Thanks guys,” he said. “I really appreciate it.”

“Not at all,” the prince said, shaking his head with a sympathetic smile.

Noct’s phone was ringing this time, and he crossed the room to look at it, tossing it back on the table as Prompto left the room. He was grateful for the united blockade his friends were forming against Gladio, but he felt bad for tearing apart a group that had been together long before he barged in on the scene. If he’d never reached out to the prince, become friends with him, none of this would have happened. It felt like his fault. As usual, it all felt like his fault.

The shower cleared his head a little of the fog of shock and hurt, but it did nothing to ease the sharp ache in his chest. The sight of Gladio with his hands all over someone else lanced through him like no pain he had ever felt. Gladio’s betrayal was the worst thing ever. He had spent so long working out how to open up, first to Noctis and then to the other two, that a betrayal as thoughtless as Gladio’s stung all the more.

He curled up in the strange sheets that night feeling the absence of the huge man’s heat beside him like he was missing a part of his own body. Tears spilled out onto the pillow, soaking it in a wide patch that just seemed to keep growing.

A soft knock on the door a little while later made him look up, and he saw Noctis standing there in his pyjamas. “Can I come in?” he asked.

“Sure,” Prompto sniffed.

“Like… come _in_ …”

“Oh. Sure.”

Noctis smiled and lifted the corner of the sheets and slid in to bed behind Prompto like he had sometimes done when the prince’s nightmares had plagued him in the years before he and Ignis had got together. He wrapped his arms around his friend and cradled him while Prompto continued to sniffle and hiccup. “Shh,” Noctis said. “It’s gonna be ok. I promise.”

“How do you know that?” Prompto asked.

Noctis gave a snort and said, “Because I’m the prince, and I can decree it to be ok. Ok?”

“Ok,” Prompto chuckled meekly. He slept fitfully, but when he woke, he found that Noctis was still there, curled around him protectively. It was a good thing Ignis was a very secure man.

The next few days were really painful. Gladio called him constantly until his battery died and he refused to charge it. He didn’t leave the apartment, playing on Noct’s games console from midday when he was finally chivvied out of bed by Ignis waving hot food under his nose, until Noct came back from the palace in the evening. The prince’s life didn’t stop, just because high school was over, but Prompto felt like life had stopped because he and Gladio were over.

A week after the incident, Prompto finally asked Noctis the question he’d had on his lips for the past three days. “So… how’s Gladio?”

Noctis gave a snort and shook his head. “He’s a mess. He can’t focus in training, he looks like he might even have been fighting – got a black eye and tattered knuckles – and his temper is the worst I’ve ever seen it.”

“That old Amicitia anger,” Ignis said darkly. “His father has it too.”

Prompto thought about the morning meditation sessions which he had used to love to spy on, loving the serene look on his lover’s handsome face as he sat cross-legged on his yoga mat. Prompto had asked him about it once, and he had just said it helped keep his hair-trigger temper under control. He’d only seen Gladio lose it once, when Noct had been put in danger in a club. He’d ended up with the scar that slashed down his face, and had put the offending assailant in hospital for a month.

“Prompto?”

“Huh?” he startled back out of his reverie. “What? I’m sorry.”

The prince smiled kindly and said, “You want to go out for dinner tonight… give Iggy a night off?”

The way he said it made Prompto blink. He looked up at the tall advisor, seeing the lines around his eyes for the first time, and then at the soft shadows underneath the prince’s sapphire blue ones. They were suffering because of his inability to get over it. He was hurting his friends. That was when he realised what a prima donna he’d been about the whole thing, just sponging off the prince and his boyfriend for a whole week without pulling his weight. Something had to be done. “Sure. Of course. I’m sorry.”

The restaurant was a quiet one in an unassuming part of town, decorated on the walls with maps of the whole of Lucis. An idea struck him while he picked at his food and tried not to look too spaced out, and he began to plan it all out. He tried to sound enthusiastic when Noctis said he could get a job, and that Ignis and he would help him find an apartment of his own, but he just knew that there was no way he could stay in the city any more.

That night when he was alone in the spare room, he pulled out a couple of maps, and worked out the rest of his plan. He took down his social media pages, even his beloved photo page, scraped together the last of his savings, grabbed his favourite camera, and stuffed a change of clothes into a bag.

In the dead of night, sometime between midnight and the first inklings of dawn, Prompto slipped out of Noct’s apartment, leaving a scribbled note in his chicken-scratch handwriting on the kitchen counter, and, with nothing more than his rucksack on his back, slunk out into the night. The Crownsguard at the door frowned at him, but he knew Prompto by now, so didn’t stop him. Prompto was grateful for that.

He felt bad about just leaving, but he knew that there was no way he’d manage with all the reminders of places he and Gladio used to go, and there was no way he could avoid Gladio completely unless he left the city completely. He was bad for his friends, a burden, and as anxiety flared like bile in is throat, he swallowed it down and reflexively touched his barcode through the green and cream sweatband. He was a survivor. Always had been. Quick, resourceful, and, when he put his chocobo mind to it, fiercely determined.

When the sun came up, he was far outside the city, having hitched most of the way there on a fuel truck. He hoped the prince wouldn’t launch a full-scale search for him. He just wanted to disappear. And a dusty little nowhere in the rocky hills of Leide seemed like the perfect place to do just that.


	2. Return

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Short reaction from Ignis and Noct (with a tiny glimpse of IgNoct first) to Prompto's emotional midnight flight, followed by the outcome of a lengthy search for the prince's best friend. Noctis, Ignis and Prompto mainly in this chapter, with a glimpse of Gladio as a changed man. A very changed man...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, thank you for the kudos and comments! I'm touched, and glad you like my story. More to come soon :D

Ignis sighed and stretched his long limbs out. The room was still dark, but he could feel his body waking him up just enough to get a pot of Ebony going. It called to him. It begged him. It enticed him out of the loving arms of Noctis, who was currently sprawled all over his chest like an extremely warm, overgrown, drooling cat, and called him to go to the kitchen. He stroked Noct’s hair, marvelling at how soft it was, and attempted to peel the prince-creature from his torso.  

To little effect.  

Noctis clamped his arms tighter around Ignis and grumbled something in his sleep.  

“Gladio was right,” Ignis chuckled. “You’re a brat, even in your sleep.” 

“Mmmrr,” Noctis growled. “Stay. Five more minutes stay.” 

“Ask me nicely.” 

He nuzzled his jaw against Ignis’ bare chest and wrapped his leg over and between Ignis’ so that he was effectively latched onto him. “Please?” he murmured, eyes still closed. Screwed shut in fact. “Don’t leave me.” 

Ignis frowned. “I’m not going to leave you, Noct,” he said, still stroking his hair.  

“Even if I don’t eat my veggies?”  

He had to laugh. “Even then, Highness,” he chortled. “But I do have to get up in a minute.” 

When Noctis finally released him half an hour later, Ignis stumbled through the living room to the kitchen with only one thing on his mind. Ebony.  

With his eyes glued to his phone screen, and an espresso glued to his other hand, Ignis walked straight back out of the kitchen and sat on the sofa for just long enough to drink the espresso. When he had got the prince up, he went to the bathroom to begin his daily ablutions. Halfway through his shave, he heard a sound that stopped his blood.  

“Ignis!”  

It was Noctis, and he was frantic.  

“Ignis! Iggy! IGNIS!” 

With only a towel around his narrow hips, the advisor bolted out of bathroom, his face half covered in shaving foam, and skidded to a halt in the living room, daggers summoned, to see Noctis standing in a corner of the kitchen with a small scrap of paper in his shaking fingers. “What is it?” he panted, scanning the room for an intruder or some danger, but all he saw was a small child with floppy black hair and huge, glistening eyes. 

“Prompto,” Noctis hissed. “It’s Prompto. He’s gone.” 

“What?” Ignis breathed. “Gone?”  

He dismissed the daggers and strode over to Noctis, reading the note he held out to him. When he had finished, he let out the breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding. “Oh that dear boy,” he murmured, feeling his chest constricting under the weight of emotions evident in the wobbly, wavering, hastily-scribbled words. 

“Iggy, we gotta find him,” Noct said, voice gritty and shaking as he teetered on the verge of panic, fully awake despite the early hour, his eyes big and blue and wide with fear. “He won’t make it outside the city! Gods, what if something happens to him?” 

“We’ll find him,” Ignis said. “I’m sure he won’t have got far.” 

That was one of those rare occasions where Ignis got it all completely wrong.  

 

*** 

 

The little diner smelled of burning again. The oil was too hot, or, more likely, something unspeakable had dropped into it to die a horrible death. Or perhaps someone had left the toast on too long, but whatever it was, it smelled acrid. It was a miracle the place was even still standing. Prompto grabbed the next order and plonked it down in front of a group of filthy hunters who used it as a refuelling stop on their trips in the area. Other than them and the cockroaches, not many creatures seemed to stop by. And that suited Prompto very nicely. 

The TV was on in the background and he turned his face up to it out of habit. It had been just over a year since he’d actually seen the prince in person, but he followed his activity when he could through the newspapers and the television. The reception this far out was terrible, but through the hazy picture, and behind the dead fly that had dropped behind the screen six months ago, Prompto could see that Noctis’ body and face had grown harder and leaner in the leap between eighteen and nineteen. Ignis, however, still looked almost exactly the same, if a little more pinched around the eyes. And then, occasionally, there was Gladio lurking out of focus in the background.  

Prompto tried really hard not to look at him when he was on the news screens with the prince.  

The door opened and a waft of hot, dry, desert air blasted in, negating all the hard work that the cheap air conditioning units had been doing in the last four hours. Prompto picked up a coffee cup that had been abandoned on a nearby table, and turned towards the door.  

The coffee cup fell from his fingers and shattered on the floor. He knew the uniforms. Glaives. There shouldn’t be Glaives this far out of the capital. Not here. Not in a shithole like this. He even thought he recognised one from the palace as she looked hard at him with her conker brown eyes. Those eyes. There was something about those eyes.  

“Sid, I bet that was you again!” the sharp cry of the manager barked at Prompto, who had not, of course, given his real name when he’d turned up looking for work twelve months earlier. "You think all this shit comes cheap?" 

He cringed and scuttled into the back to get a dustpan and brush from a room in the back, but when he returned to the site of the mess, he found that one of the Glaives, the girl who had been staring at him, was busy reforming the coffee cup with the strange magical abilities he knew the Glaives possessed.  

She knelt gracefully, picked the cup up, and handed it to him. “Prompto?” she said. “You need to come with us.” Her voice was a husky alto, and while she was thin, he got the impression he shouldn’t try and mess with her. He might end up with his insides on his outside if he did. 

“Why? I haven’t done anything wrong,” he challenged. His defensive nerves made his tone a little sharper than he’d intended and she narrowed her eyes. She arched a slim eyebrow.  

Her companion, a larger man with spiky brown hair and a scruffy beard which Prompto thought could do with coming off entirely, stepped up beside her, attempting to look intimidating. It was the woman who was doing the better job, but he wasn’t happy about either of them trying to bully him around.  

Prompto stared at the strange, arrow-shaped tattoo on the forehead of the guy, and noticed a nasty rattail of a ponytail falling down between his shoulders. “What do you want with me?” Prompto challenged. _A_ _nd how the heck did you find me?_  

As if in answer to his thoughts, the woman chuckled softly. “It’s not _us_ who want anything to do with you at all, but you’ve given us all quite the run around.” She pulled out a piece of paper from the inside of her jacket and smoothed it down flat on the table nearby. It had Noctis’ royal seal on it. “Open it.” 

With trembling fingers, he reached for it, setting the coffee cup down, and pulled the wax seal off before opening it and reading it aloud to himself. “By royal decree, crown citizen Prompto Argentum is to return to Insomnia and present himself to the Crown Prince Noctis Lucis Caelum immediately upon receiving these summons. Failure to comply with the orders herein written, and with the instructions of the Kingsglaive agents sent to retrieve him, shall be regarded as treason.” His big blue eyes went wide. “Bastard,” he hissed. "He had no right." 

Her hand was at Prompto’s throat, and she flattened him against the table-top with as much ease as it had taken to smooth down the order down only a few seconds before. “You watch your mouth, little traitor,” she snarled. “That’s your future king you’re badmouthing. 

“Hey!” he yelped, legs scrambling like an upturned beetle. “Noctis has no right to do this. I’ve done nothing wrong. I just left the city!” 

“I don’t care if all you’ve been doing out here for a year is servicing your own cock,” she spat. “You’re coming back with us. Don’t make me force you.” 

He sighed and his big blue eyes went to the face of the other Glaive. He found no sympathy there. “Fine, let me get my stuff.” 

She nodded and let him up, exchanging a look with her companion. “Go with him,” she said. “I’ll meet you back here when you’re done.” 

The journey back to Insomnia took far too long, but his heart sank as though trying to hide itself the cloud of nervous butterflies in his stomach when he saw the shimmering wall getting nearer and nearer. They shot through the checkpoint, waving their Glaive pass and explaining they were on royal business and couldn’t stop, before weaving through the streets to the West Gate.  

“The prince is just finishing up his public audiences,” the woman said, closing her phone as she escorted him into the palace past the guards. She wasn't even out of breath as she crested the top of the enormous flight of steps, but Prompto couldn't speak. His fitness had taken a nosedive in a year of just waiting on tables, but at least he hadn't put on any weight. “His highness said to go straight into the throne room. I assume you remember the way?” 

Prompto nodded. He shouldered his dusty rucksack and scuffed his heels all the way up the long corridor. The fancy marble floor and the carved marble columns which were designed to intimidate and impress, passed by without his even seeing them. His heart was in his boots as he put his hand to the door and inhaled. “Here goes nothing,” he said to himself as he gave the heavy door a good shove.  

The room inside was empty except for a couple of Crownsguards stationed up the sides of the hall, but there, on his throne at the end of the room, on the platform below the king’s empty throne, sat Noctis. He looked tired and bored, but when he saw Prompto, he leapt to his feet with a cry of delight. “Prompto!” he called, and the small blond heard his name reverberate off the walls a thousand times before he had made his way even half way up the chamber.  

In stark contrast to the colour and delight on the prince’s face, the figure behind Noctis went white and looked like he was going to pass out. It was Gladio.  

As the skinny, blond figure paced in from the door at the furthest end of the chamber and made his way up the centre of the room, Noctis heard the sharp inhalation behind him, and felt his shield go stiff. “Gladio,” he said. “Would you leave us please?” 

Without a word, Gladio stepped out from behind the prince’s throne and bowed low. When he straightened, however, the expression on his face was one of broiling internal torment.  

Noctis jabbed his head at a side door and said, “Through _that_ door. Kindly confine yourself to barracks for the remainder of the day. I will train with Nyx this afternoon instead.” 

Gladio bowed again and stalked from the room without looking back.  

The prince stood and sighed. “Prompto,” he said his name more gently  this time as he walked down the steps into the main hall. The relief in his voice was palpable.  

“Hey, Noct,” Prompto said shyly, adjusting the strap of his ragged, dirty rucksack.  

“So it takes a royal summons to get you to come see me?” he asked. His voice was sullen and Prompto noted the deep shadows under his eyes.  

“I’m sorry, I was… I didn’t…” 

“It’s ok,” the prince said. “You don’t have to explain.” And he swept his friend up into a warm, affectionate embrace. “But by the gods, we missed you,” he hissed in his ear, snuffling slightly as Prompto’s golden hair tickled his nose.  

It was a long, long time before Noctis would release him. 

They pulled apart and Prompto narrowed his eyes. “You ok?” he asked the prince. 

“I’m so glad you’re safe, Prom. And yeah, I’m tired,” the prince admitted when Prompto flashed him a knowing look. “Been a lot going on, what with the relations with Niflheim and all that…”  

“Yeah,” Prompto said, shuffling slightly, uncomfortable in the huge hall. “I may have been out of the city, but still, it's all anyone is talking about. How are you guys handling it?” 

“Alright, I guess. I mean, I have Iggy to keep me on the straight and narrow, and my dad has Clarus and Cor, so it's not too bad…” 

“I…” his blue eyes dropped to his boots again. “So… I um… I heard the way you spoke to Gladio just now… I hope it’s not because of me… I hope you guys are still…” 

“We’re not.” Noctis interjected sharply. “He’s still my shield, but he’s not my friend.” 

Prompto was horrified. “Because of what he did to me?” 

“And because of how he behaved afterwards. He said and did... something which he shouldn’t have.” 

“Oh.” Prompto didn’t really want to ask, but he still wanted to know. It _was_ his fault after all, because if he’d just stayed away from Noctis to begin with, he’d never have met Gladio, and he’d never have fallen head over heels in love with him, and then the rest of that shit-storm would never have engulfed the prince and his little group. If he’d hidden himself in Leide better, perhaps he never would have had to have come back at all, and… 

The prince’s eyes narrowed too. “Come on, stop over thinking. Let’s get out of here. I’ll have Ignis whip us up something in my apartment. I missed lunch so I'm starving.” 

Prompto’s smile was still watery, and he peered nervously into the shadows as they made their way to the prince’s private apartment in the palace, as though Gladio would be lurking there, ready to pounce on him and… and then what? He had no idea what they’d say to each other if they ever met again. He just prayed that Gladio obeyed orders and stayed in the barracks. It was enough just to be back there again. 

Prompto flopped down on the sofa in the living room while Noctis went to his bedroom to change out of his formal Lucian royal clothes into something more comfortable. Ignis came in while he was in there, and caught sight of Prompto sitting on the couch, staring into space.  

“Prompto,” he said with a bright and genuine warmth that went right through Prompto’s chest and seemed to make his heart beat stronger again. “It’s good to see you again. We were so worried about you.” 

“You were?” he asked, getting to his feet awkwardly. Suddenly Ignis had wrapped his lean arms around him and held him close for just a moment. “Always the mother hen, huh?” Prompto squeaked from somewhere near Ignis’ collarbone, and he got a little whickering laugh back. The advisor smelled like coffee and dusty libraries, and Prompto sighed. 

“I’m glad you’re alright,” he said. “You took some finding though, even for royal agents…” 

“Yeah, I know I kind of overreacted, but I guess I didn’t want to be found really…” 

“But now that you are?” Noctis asked hesitantly from the doorway to his room, straightening the grey t-shirt he’d clearly just stuffed over his head. “Now that you are found, I hope it’s not too awful?” 

Prompto smiled, but it wasn’t really a happy one. “No,” he said. “No, you guys are the best.” Part of him still wished he could have lived out his miserable existence in anonymity in that gods-forsaken corner of Leide. He wasn’t about to admit that to them though. His fingers clutched reflexively around the green and cream sweatband on his wrist.  

Ignis moved to the little galley kitchen and began to clatter around. Noctis drifted in and wound a hand lazily around his waist while he prepared the food. Prompto’s blue eyes watched them from the sofa. It had been a long time since he’d seen genuine affection, and it made him smile to see that the prince and Ignis were as close as ever. Closer, even, he thought as Noctis snaked his body around Ignis’ lean frame like an overgrown black cat in the privacy of his own apartment.  

After a while, their conversation was drowned out by the sizzling of oil and onions in a large wok, and Prompto pulled out his phone. It was a shitty phone he’d picked up from a hunter who hadn't wanted it any more. Prompto’s phonebook had approximately three contacts in. None of them was Gladio’s.  

He half regretted pulling down all his social media pages on night he’d left he city, because he’d had a heck of a lot of followers, but running away had meant he’d had to stop spamming his photographs all over the internet. He had effectively vanished when he’d left Insomnia behind. As he wandered to the window and looked out at the lights of the capital beyond, he wondered idly where Gladio went these days, whether he’d found someone else. He’d looked awful in that brief moment back in the throne room. The shield had been as massive as always, perfectly filling out his gorgeous Crownsguard uniform like it had been sewn up around him, but his beautiful whisky coloured eyes had been flat and dead.  

Prompto’s sharp ears caught snatches of the conversation in the kitchen, his attention drawn by the sudden lowering of volume and hushed consonants. “Is he thinner?” 

“I have to say, he does look awfully fatigued.” 

“Yeah, and, like, half starved…” Noctis hissed. “I mean, he was kinda skinny before, but…” 

“We can begin to rectify that last point as soon as this is ready,” Ignis murmured. “It is a new recipe though, so I’m not sure precisely how long it’ll be until it's ready.” 

“I’m gonna go back out there. See you in a bit,” Noctis said. 

“Wait,” Ignis called softly. “Give him comfort, Noctis. He looks so lonely. This past year must have been very trying on him.” 

“Yeah.” 

And then Prompto had to turn around to avoid being caught eavesdropping. In a few moments there was a small but strong hand on his shoulder. “How you holding up?” Noctis asked.  

Prompto shrugged and pouted a little. “Ok, I guess. It’s weird being back here though…” 

“I can’t believe you vanished for a whole year, Prom. And with nothing but a note that explained shit-all? We were all so scared.” 

“We?” he asked.  

Noctis didn’t meet his eye. “Yeah, Gladio too. I could tell, obviously, but he never said… Not after…” 

“What happened between you two?”  

Noct’s sigh was huge but controlled. “Oh gods,” he breathed. “Where to start.” He flopped down into the sofa and rubbed his temple absentmindedly. “I guess it started about two months after you evaporated off the face of Eos without a trace.” He cast Prompto an accusatory glare, and Prompto cringed in silent apology. But he wasn’t really all that sorry. He’d needed to disappear.  

Noctis seemed to understand. They’d always been able to have these silent conversations, ever since the beginning of high school, and he didn’t need to hear Prompto’s explanation right at that moment. Maybe later. 

He kept on with his story instead. “It all started the week that the dignitaries from all over were coming to visit the palace for peace talks, and security was on crazy-high alert. Gladio chose that moment to ask for leave to go and find you. We’d borrowed a couple of Crownsguards to search for you, under Ignis’ direction, but no luck. It was like you’d just evaporated. Remind me to come to you if I ever need a spy in Niflheim…” he added.  

It was meant to be a joke, but the bottom dropped out of Prompto’s stomach at the thought, and he went white as a sheet.  

Noctis laughed softly without looking at him and said, “But then you’ll remind me of what a terrible liar you are, and I’ll forget the whole idea. Anyway, so Gladio chose the busiest week, when there were parties from everywhere, including Niflheim, coming here to the palace, to flip out and ask for time off. Of course, I told him he shouldn’t have fucked around with another person when he was with you, and this was his own gods-damned mess, and he wasn’t cleaning it up on my time.” 

Knowing precisely how well Gladio would have reacted to that, Prompto’s stomach dropped down and threatened to exit his body through his rectum, and he bit his lip. “I bet he didn’t take that well,” he said.  

“ _Ding_ ,” Noctis said, raising a finger. “You guessed it. He freaked out, blew his lid, and we argued a bit more, and..." 

"And?" 

"Something... kind of snapped in him. He... he lost it." Noct scratched his head. "It actually ended with him punching me. Ignis had to pull me out from underneath him and he only snapped out of it when Ignis had a blade at his throat.” 

“Oh gods, Noct, he didn’t hurt you, did he? Were you ok?” 

Noct held up a hand. “No, he was hurt worse than I was actually. I only got my nose bloodied. He was horrified with himself, but... Well, my dad was furious. So was Clarus. He was suspended from duty for a month and confined to the palace barracks.” He ran his hand through his black hair and sighed. “He wasn’t the same when he came out. He was calm – I haven’t seen him get angry once since then – but it was like he lost a part of himself and never found it. He’s been… hollow… since that night. Everyone’s noticed it. He just comes to work, does his job, and goes home.” 

Something twisted in Prompto’s gut. That didn’t sound like Gladio. He was a creature of fire, of fierce love and flashes of anger, of emotion. Whatever he felt, he wore it on his sleeve. And he was angry, sure, but violent towards the prince? For him to have gone cold inside made Prompto’s own blood run cold.  

“Hey,” Noctis said gently. “He’s not your problem anymore, ok?” 

“I know. Just because he hurt me once, doesn’t mean I don’t care about him still.” It took balls to admit that aloud to Noctis, but he had to say it. And it felt surprisingly good to tell someone something he'd spent about ten months coming to terms with feeling.  

Ignis emerged with three wine glasses held expertly in one hand, with a bottle in the other, and set them down on the table. “Your safe recovery calls for a little celebration. I hope you don’t mind, Noct, but I had them call up a bottle of that vintage we had at your birthday last year since you liked it so much.” 

“I don’t mind at all,” Noctis smiled. “I’m so happy that Prompto’s alive and well, and it’s even better to know that _and_ to have him back with us.” 

“You really did give us quite the scare, you know,” Ignis said as he poured the clear, delicate white wine into the glasses. It was a perfect choice for the late summer afternoon. “We thought, when no one had seen or heard anything of you for months, that you must be dead.” 

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I just… I couldn’t stay here. I needed to put this all behind me. I…” _I’m worthless_.  

“Prompto,” Noctis said, taking his glass from Ignis with a nod of acknowledgement, “I don’t want you to resent being brought back here. You’re free to go whenever you like, and we want to help you however we can. We can give you a new and better life somewhere if that’s what you really want, but I just hate the idea of you being out there on your own, and not being able to reach you, to talk to you, to hear your voice.” He broke off and sipped the wine. “I missed you. You weren’t just Gladio’s boyfriend, you know, you were my _best_ friend before that.” Tears sparkled in his huge sapphire eyes and he took another gulp of the wine. “I missed you so much.” 

“I’m sorry,” Prompto said. He took a gulp of his own wine and proceeded to choke on it.  

Ignis patted him on the back and, when Prompto had finished coughing, said, “As I said, we’re just happy you’re safe now.” 

As he looked up at their tired faces, wracked with emotions ranging from hurt confusion to expansive relief, he realised what a little shit he’d been to do that to them. “I’m sorry I hurt you guys,” he said as the realisation sank in.  

Ignis moved his hand from Prompto’s shoulders where he’d been patting him, and drew him in for a brief, but warm, sideways hug. “It’s so good to have you back.” 

By the time the evening was drawing to a close, Prompto was exhausted. After days on the road with nothing but the company of two surly Glaives, he was ready for a shower and bed. The spare room in the prince’s apartment was prepared for him, and as he slid his legs into a pair of Noct’s pyjamas, he looked around him at the luxurious room and thought, as he lay back on the bed, how different it all was from the motel he’d been holed up in for a year. Time to stop running. Time to grow up a bit. 

A soft knock on the door made him sit up, and he saw Noctis standing in the doorway in a black dressing gown. “You want anything?” he asked.  

“Nah, I’m good, thanks,” Prompto smiled.  

“Can I come in for a minute?” 

“’Course.” 

Noct sat on the bed beside him and drew his legs up to cross them like he was a small child again. “You can decide tomorrow what you’re going to do, or even later if you need more time, but can I ask you one favour?” 

“I owe you more than that, Noct,” he said miserably.  

“You owe me nothing. And that’s not why I’m asking. I want to ask you not to disappear again. If you want to leave, I’m not going to stop you, but I can’t bear the thought of not knowing where you are, or not being able to reach you if I need you…” 

 _If I need you_. The words lodged in Prompto’s brain and he blurted, “You don’t need me, Noctis!” 

The hurt in the prince’s face admonished him immediately. “I do, Prompto. Now more than ever. I just need a friend.” He looked fierce, his soft pale face going unexpectedly harsh with emotion. “I’ve got advisors and shields and guards and trainers, but other than Iggy, I’ve got no friends. I _need_ you. I need you to goof around with, to sneak out and go drinking with, to play King’s Knight with… For all the little things that are actually the big things… I need you.” 

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I…” 

“You’re worth more than you’ll ever know, Prompto.” 

And he began to cry.  

Sleep claimed him a short while later after Noctis had comforted him, and he didn’t stir again until well past midday, when he felt a hand on his arm. 


	3. Reflection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mummy Ignis at the beginning, thinky Prompto, and then... I'm only a little bit sorry...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm away for a week or so and I don't know if I'll have wifi, so it might be a while til the last chapter... Thanks for your comments and kudos. I hope you like this one too.

A gentle hand shook him by the shoulder, and he surfaced to find Ignis sitting on the side of the bed with a warm smile on his face, and a plate of eggs and smoked salmon in his hand. Prompto’s eyes locked on the granules of cracked black pepper on the fish’s glistening surface. Forget the slabs of thick smoked salmon – it seemed like a luxury just to have real pepper, not that powdered shit in the diner that didn’t taste of anything much, other than perhaps road dirt, but if he did get any anywhere near him, had made him sneeze for hours afterwards.

Ignis’ low, quiet voice drew his attention back away from the food. “Thought you could do with something to eat,” he smiled, reflexively pushing his glasses back up his nose.

“That smells incredible, Iggy,” Prompto gushed. “I’ll just put some proper clothes on, or at least, like, a dressing gown, and eat it in the other room, if that’s ok.”

Ignis’ smile got wider and he nodded approvingly, stepping back. “No crumbs in _your_ bed,” he said pointedly.

“Noct still likes breakfast in bed then?” Prompto grinned as he swung his scrawny legs out and reached for a dressing gown on the back of the door.

“Unfortunately, he does. And because I’m a _complete_ pushover when it comes to that man, I let him.”

Prompto laughed as he left the bedroom and followed Ignis into the sitting room where he flopped onto the couch. His voice rang, innocent as a glass bell, as he said, “I’m so glad you guys are happy together.” The silence that stretched between them lasted uncomfortably long. “Iggy?” He looked up at him nervously.

He sighed and set the plate of eggs down on the coffee table along with a napkin and cutlery. “Noctis has to marry Lady Lunafreya. We’ve known this for years. Ours is a love that cannot be.”

“You never know,” Prompto shrugged, feeling a blush stinging his cheeks for putting his foot in it, as usual. He should have thought. Should have known better. “She might not like the idea of Noctis after all these years – I mean, it takes real dedication to want to sleep next to that ugly mug every night…” The ghost of a smile played on Ignis’ lips, he didn’t allow it to come to life. Prompto kept blathering. “She might find someone else as well? Noct and she could still marry, keep up appearances, but you could each… you know… do your own thing around it?” He finally managed to get his mouth to stop talking, and trailed off.

Ignis looked at him with his deep green eyes and smiled sadly. “Perhaps,” was all he had to offer as he began to move away across the living room. “Enjoy.”

“You’re not staying?”

“Unfortunately Noctis and I have a council meeting shortly.”

“Ah. Fun,” he said, shovelling the perfectly scrambled egg into his mouth with relish. “Oh. Em. Gee. Ignis, this is incredible! Wow! It’s literally, like, the best thing I’ve had for breakfast in, well, a year!”

He hitched a little smile for just a moment. “I’m glad. If you need anything at all, the telephone in the corner of the room connects to the concierge. They will attend you should you need anything. Until then, you have free range of the entire palace.” He drew something out of a pocket, as Ignis was wont to do, and added, “Although, it might be best to keep one of these with you, just in case someone doesn’t recognise you…” He handed Prompto what looked like a keyring, with the symbol of the Lucian kings on it. It was the highest security clearance outside of the immediate privy council.

“Thank you,” he said. As Ignis picked up his jacket from where it lay carefully folded over the arm of the sofa, Prompto blurted in a rush, “Hey, listen, Iggy, um… do you know where Gladio is today?”

Ignis seemed taken aback. “I believe he’s in the barracks at the moment, but he’ll be in council with us until later this afternoon. You’re not thinking of going to see him are you?”

“Why not?”

“I’m just surprised, that’s all.”

“I want to talk to him. He looked awful yesterday. You think I shouldn’t go?”

“It’s your choice, of course,” Ignis said politely. “But you should know that he’s a changed man.”

“In what way?”

Ignis shifted his weight onto his left leg and unconsciously brought his hand to his hip as he often did when he was pensive. It was an infinitely familiar gesture that warmed Prompto to see once more. Noct’s words about all the little things being the big things floated back into his mind as Ignis kept talking. “I have no idea how he’ll react to seeing you. Honestly, we’ve hardly seen him this past year. He keeps to himself. Just… be careful, Prompto, if you do go there.”

“Consider myself advised,” he grinned, resuming his relentless shovelling of food like the half-starved animal he was.

Ignis nodded and pushed his specs back up his nose before striding from the room.

In the stillness he left behind, Prompto finished his eggs and then crossed to the balcony. He pushed open the huge doors and stepped out into the warm summer afternoon. He sighed. He could see the whole of the palace gardens spread out from this side of the palace, and he thought vaguely about going to wander them and revisit old haunts. The green smell of summer leaves and soft petals rose up and he savoured it after the dry dust, the barren rock, and the stench of hunters and that diner for a year.

The dressing gown was more Ignis’ thing, and he felt odd wearing it, so once he’d washed his plate up and left it to drain, he thought about getting dressed properly. Ignis had had his own grubby clothes sent to the palace laundry that morning, so, having very little else to wear, he crossed to Noctis’ chest of drawers and pulled out a black t-shirt and a pair of skinny jeans. He and the prince were still almost exactly the same height, though perhaps Prompto was thinner. He frowned as he drew out a belt from the prince’s collection and notched it on the last hole. Definitely thinner, he thought as he rammed his feet into his beloved boots.

The palace gardens were sweltering in the midday heat, but he didn’t mind. He was used to it from the desert, although it was much more humid back in Insomnia. He only hoped he wouldn’t burn. He stuck to the shady walks where he and Gladio had snatched hours together in the past, and he quickly lost track of time as he sat on a bench, letting his mind play through a million different scenarios.

By the time the afternoon was beginning to think about bedding down into evening, he had started to stiffen up and he stood, stretching his skinny shoulders out and grunting. The late light flashed on the windows of the castle and he looked up, wondering where Noct and Iggy were, and by implication, where Gladio was.

No one stopped him as he meandered back to Noct’s apartment, and when he opened the door, he smelled the wonderful scent of freshly baked pastries. Noct was slumped in the sofa, still wearing his fancy royal getup, and Ignis was pouring a cup of tea for Noct, and, predictably, an Ebony for himself.

Prompto inhaled the sweet smell and said, “Mmm, Iggy, you been busy again?”

“Sadly not,” he chuckled. “But do help yourself, and do feel free to say they’re not as good as mine.”

“I will, on both counts,” Prompto grinned. “How was council?”

“Be grateful you’re not a Crownsguard,” Noctis grumbled. “Gods, that was boring.”

“A necessary evil,” Ignis chided gently.

“Evil’s the right word. Did you see the look Drautos threw me when he accused me of not being ‘experienced enough’ to voice an opinion on the Tenebrae matter?”

“It did not go unnoticed,” Ignis admitted, laying a hand on the prince’s shoulder as he offered the plate of sweet pastries to him.

“Ugh,” Noct exhaled, reaching for his second. He turned to Prompto and said through a very un-princely half mouthful of icing and pastry, “So, what did you get up to? You’re looking mighty pink in the cheeks – you go for a wander?”

Prompto raised his fingers to his freckled cheeks and sighed. “I tried really hard not to get burned…”

“Don’t worry,” Noctis said. “Come here…” and he raised his sticky hand. There was a crackle of magic in the air and as Prompto lowered his face into the prince’s outstretched hand, he felt a jump like static electricity leap from Noct’s skin to his. The flare of green magic startled him and made him close his eyes, but the burning in his cheeks cooled instantly.

“Hey, neat,” Prompto breathed when Noctis leaned back on the sofa with a self-satisfied grin. “You’ve been practising.”

“Yeah. Iggy and I have been working on it. I’m getting pretty good at it now.”

“Thanks.”

“No problem. So, where’d you go to get so burned?”

“Gardens,” he said. “I spent the afternoon wandering and then sitting.”

Ignis fixed him with an intense stare, and he felt like the man was trying to rake through his mind for information with those steely green eyes.

“What?” he finally demanded.

Ignis sipped his Ebony and said, “I was about to ask if you had had any more thoughts on visiting Gladio.”

Noct’s eyes widened but he didn’t say anything.

“I have. And I’m gonna go. You think he’ll be there now?”

Noctis and Ignis shared a look and then nodded in synchrony. 

He chewed his lip and then stood, swallowing his nerves along with the remainder of the pastry and brushing the crumbs off his borrowed t-shirt. “Alright then. Now or never. Here I go. Wish me luck.”

“Fortune is an abstract construct invented by those attempting or unable to come to terms with a series of exceptionally good or bad events,” Ignis lectured sternly, but Noctis cut him off with a sharp gesture.

“Specs, shut up and wish the man good luck.”

“Apologies, Prompto, I didn’t mean that I don’t want this to go well for you.”

Prompto only laughed at his odd friend, and then turned to the prince. “Thanks… for everything.”

“Hey, wait,” Noctis called after him.

“Yeah?”

“Listen, if the barracks isn’t the right place to talk to him, don’t feel like you have to stay there. I only told him to stay there so he didn’t accidentally run into you while you were here…”

“Thanks,” Prompto smiled. And then he slipped quietly out of the prince’s apartment and headed out of the palace, making for the citadel barracks where he hoped to find Gladio. Heart clanging, he approached the main entrance and stepped inside the cool, dark building.

“Oi!”

He was almost immediately accosted by a burly Crownsguard, and in his moment of fear, he forgot all about the pass that Ignis had given him earlier.

“Who the hell are you?” the man demanded.

“I…” he faltered, flushing hot from his chest right up to his ears.

“Answer me,” he growled, grabbing Prompto by the t-shirt and shoving him into the wall. “You’re no Guard or Glaive.”

Suddenly this all seemed like a terrible idea. What if Gladio was such a changed man that he had moved on and had no interest in seeing Prompto? If he didn’t manage to make his mouth work again, if his situation didn’t deviate from its present trajectory, he would find himself incarcerated in the barracks holding cells until Ignis or the prince thought to look for him and had to come and rescue him.

The thought of being so very pathetic spurred him back into action and he reached for the keyring in his pocket at the same time as another voice drawled down the corridor, a woman this time.

“Hey, you do realise that’s the prince’s best friend you’re manhandling there?” It was the Glaive who had come to fetch him from his little corner of hell in Leide. She swayed her hips and raised an eyebrow again.

“Crowe,” the Crownsguard barked in surprise, and Prompto was dropped quicker than if he had suddenly become a large Chocobo turd. The Crownsguard looked at him with fresh eyes. “Apologies,” he said gruffly as he glanced at the token that Prompto held aloft for his inspection.

“No hard feelings,” he bumbled amicably. “I know, I look like a real threat with these guns,” he raised his slender bicep and received a good-humoured snort of amusement from the other two. And then he asked, “So, if I needed to find Gladio, where would I look?”

The Crownsguard’s face darkened. “Amicitia? Why do you want him?”

_Because he’s my ex and I miss him and I need to talk to him._ He settled for just the very last bit of that. He wasn’t even sure if Gladio was ‘out’ to the rest of the castle either, and while the past year hadn’t been exactly fun for Prompto, he wasn’t about to make Gladio’s life any worse by inadvertently outing him to the entire Crownsguard. Heck, he’d looked miserable enough the previous day. He swallowed. Distance and time had softened him to Gladio. “I need to talk to him.”

The Glaive and Crownsguard both looked like they thought Prompto had a death wish, and then the Crownsguard gave him directions to the shield’s apartment in the barracks.

“Cheers,” Prompto said, trying to affect a bit more courage than he felt it the hopes that his knees would stop shaking.

“Good luck,” the Crownsguard called, muttering after him, “Rather you than me.”

_Gods, I hope this wasn’t a stupid idea_ , Prompto thought as he knocked on the only door at the end of a long corridor, and after a minute or so of silence, knocked again, harder. A shuffling from the other side reached his ears and he bit his lip.

“Who is it?” came the deep baritone he knew so well. His heart lurched and his blood boiled in his ears. Except… it _wasn’t_ the voice he knew so well. It was Gladio, for sure, but it sounded empty, devoid of emotion. _Dead._

He gulped, suddenly feeling like Ifrit himself had taken up residence in his chest. The heat scorched his throat dry and he all but croaked, “Um… It’s me. It’s… it’s Prompto.”

The second silence seemed to stretch on forever, and he wondered if Gladio had even heard him. He had been about to call out again when the lock on the door rattled and the door opened slowly to reveal Gladio standing on the other side, long hair wet from the shower and tied back into a loose bun, torso bare and beautiful, and a towel wrapped hastily around his hips. “You want to come in?” he rasped, his deep voice a handful of gravel in Prompto’s ears. His head was downcast and he stared at the floor like he wanted to burn a hole in it. He did not look at Prompto.

Gods, what a body that man had. He looked even leaner and more muscled than Prompto remembered. “You mind?” he gulped.

Gladio shook his head and stepped back, holding the door open for Prompto to squeeze into the stark apartment beyond.

He was shocked. The place was utterly without soul. No pictures adorned the grey walls, the pale sofas were empty of cushions, and the coffee table was devoid of the usual accoutrements of TV remotes or empty mugs. There were no shoes abandoned on the hardwood, no clothes strewn over the furniture, no fruit out on the kitchen counter. Nothing. There was absolutely nothing that spoke of the man who lived there.

And perhaps that told Prompto enough.


	4. Reunion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So, this is the last chapter… Didn't think I'd manage to post it while I'm away, but I found a way!
> 
> Gladio doesn’t have the shaved-sides/mullet combo in this story. Just the long hair, more like older Gladio in the game. Just to help you picture him (probably should have pointed that out earlier, but hey, he’s not had a starring role til today). I also have a thing for big, tough guys being emotional, so that’s in here I’m afraid (totally self-indulgent, I’m sorry). We all know Prom has a heart of gold, so if anyone’s gonna forgive him, it’s Prompto, right? …RIGHT? Also I’m sorry I rather sabotaged things (for me and for Prompto) with a semi-naked Gladio at the end of the last one, but… yeah. Anyway… 
> 
> *shrugs unapologetically and opens the door to Gladio’s soulless apartment to pick up where we left off*

“I’ll just get changed,” Gladio said awkwardly.

His voice. His voice really was strange. Strained. It wasn’t right. The way he moved about the apartment was mechanical, robotic, like he had somehow turned into an MT in the year that Prompto had been away. The thought gave him a shiver. What the hell had happened to him?

In no time Gladio was back out, barefoot, but wearing black Crownsguard sweatpants and a plain black tank top. His arms looked more taut and more beautiful than Prompto remembered, but maybe that was just time playing tricks on him. His wet hair was now in a ponytail instead of a bun, scraped back off his face to reveal the stern scar on his left cheek in vivid detail.

“You want anything to drink?” he asked, still not making full eye contact with him. “I don’t have much in though.”

“Juice of some kind maybe?” Prompto replied. This felt awkward. Wrong. Was he now hurting Gladio just by being there again? Should he just have stayed away altogether?

Like a rabbit, he wanted to bolt for the way out.

Fighting down the panic, he forced himself to watch Gladio mutely cross the living room to the kitchen area at the far end and draw out a glass from a high cupboard. His body still moved beautifully, every motion fluidly effortless and powerful, and Prompto found his blue eyes lingering on the way his muscles flexed and moved beneath his tattoos. Gladio opened the fridge and Prompto gasped quietly. Apart from a box of eggs, a carton of orange juice and a bottle of milk, there was very little in there to fuel a man of his size.

Gladio brought his glass back to the sofa where Prompto had sunk down. He set it down on the table with a clunk and then hovered awkwardly, still apparently unable to look at him.

Finally Prompto couldn’t bear it any longer and he leaned forward, elbows nervously hovering on his knees, and said, “I… I’m sorry for barging in on you like this. You must have had a busy day…”

Gladio shrugged. And then, wide-eyed, he raised his gaze and regarded Prompto for the first time. He looked like he couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing.

 _Come on, don’t make me work so hard_. “Look, I didn’t come here with a plan or anything. I mean, until Noct threatened me with high treason to get me to come back to the palace, I wasn’t going to be here at all, but you know the prince…”

Gladio didn’t smile.

Prompto sighed.

Gladio was hardly breathing.

“This was a mistake,” Prompto said, rising to his feet and making for the door. “I’m sorry. I should have just left you alone, I –”

Gladio’s massive hand flashed out and snared him by the wrist and held him in place. “Please, don’t go,” he hissed. “Not yet. I… I just need… a minute…” He seemed to be finding it hard to breathe.

“Gladio?”

“I thought…” he ground his teeth. “Until I saw you yesterday, I thought you were dead, Prompto.”

“What?”

His voice was harsh, deep, and it made Prompto’s chest _ache_ to hear it. Gladio’s thumb stroked the underside of Prompto’s wrist absentmindedly, but he still held him firmly. “You vanished without a trace, and then when no one heard from you, no one could find you, and there was no sign of you for months… I thought you had to be dead.”

“Come on,” Prompto joked, his eyes fixed on Gladio’s enormous hand. He had some new scars there, bridging his knuckles, he noticed. “I know I’m a weed, but I’m not _that_ pathetic… I know how to take care of myself…” Gladio’s eyes locked onto his and _then_ he saw the fire. There _was_ something inside him after all. Prompto couldn’t help smiling.

“Prompto, when you walked back in yesterday…” Gladio choked, and Prompto realised the truth.

“You didn’t know, did you? You didn’t know the Glaives had found me.”

He shook his head. “I knew Ignis had asked some hunters to keep an eye out for someone matching your description, but the prince doesn’t confide in me at all any more. I didn’t know they’d found you.”

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“What? Why are _you_ sorry?” Gladio growled, turning Prompto a little as he jerked his arm reflexively. “You didn’t do anything to deserve any of this, Prompto. I was the one who fucked up, I was the one who –” He bit down and forced himself to calm his breathing.

“Gladio,” Prompto hissed, “You’re hurting me…”

His fingers released him instantly and he turned to face the window, giving Prompto a spectacular view of his back and shoulders. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s ok,” he said, looking down at the four wide, pink marks where Gladio’s fingers had clutched around his right arm.

“So… where _did_ you go anyway?” Gladio asked after a minute of silence, his voice subdued and gritty once more as he steeled himself and looked over his tattooed shoulder at Prompto.

“A little place in the middle of nowhere…” he mumbled. Gladio clearly wasn’t satisfied with that. His eyes narrowed, more out of curiosity than displeasure. “In the hills on the far edge of Leide,” he said in a rush without meeting the bigger man’s eye.

The colour drained from Gladio’s cheeks. “On your own?” Prompto nodded and Gladio swore. He bowed his head low, ponytail brushing forward over his shoulder, his eyes screwed shut, fighting down that fit of emotion again. “I’m so sorry, Prompto,” he finally said.

“Like I said, I can take care of myself,” he said rather lamely.

“That’s not the point,” he hissed through bared teeth. “I hurt you so much that night that you thought it was better for you to be out there, where there are gangs of demon hunters, and worse, roaming around, than it was for you to be here in Insomnia.” _With me_.

Those two words hung heavy and silent in the air between them before he shook his head, turning away, unable to stand Prompto’s gaze any longer. He crossed to the window and braced his huge, bare arms on the sill, head bowed. His ponytail flopped forward, the damp tip just brushing his colossal shoulder muscles. He was a mess.

Prompto crossed to him, his feet making no noise on the hardwood floor, and traced his shaking fingers lightly over the inky feathers of Gladio’s shoulder. The huge man jumped like Prompto had electrocuted him, and he turned and stared at Prompto, his whisky coloured eyes swirling with emotion. “Prom?” he grated.

“Shh,” Prompto said. He looped his skinny arms around Gladio’s solid torso and pulled himself in tight to his body. With his nose pressed against Gladio’s chest, he inhaled deeply. “Gods,  you smell so good. I’ve missed you. I’ve missed this so much.”

Gladio remained stock still, frozen in disbelief, until, with a sudden exhalation, he wrapped his entire body around Prompto and began to cry.

Prompto was amazed to find the great behemoth of a man in tears. He was used to hot anger, and he remembered the raucous, booming laughter that had left his ears ringing and his face beaming, but he was pretty sure he’d never, ever seen him cry.

Gladio’s chest heaved like bellows in spasm, silent, wracking sobs bursting from his lungs, tears rolling down his cheeks. “I’m so sorry, Prompto,” he hissed. “I missed you so much. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m…”

“Shh,” Prompto said, nuzzling his cheek into Gladio’s chest again. “Shh. I know.”

A soft gasp sounded, distinct from the gulping sobs, and Gladio pulled back a few inches. His face was red and blotchy, and Prompto wasn’t sure if Gladio was going to explode or pass out. “You do?” he asked in a harsh croak.

Prompto nodded. “I do. It doesn’t change how I feel about what you did, but I know you’re sorry. Gods, just one look at you when I walked into the throne room told me that much. It was like you were…” he shook his head, shuddering at the memory. “It was like you’d died, and all that was left of you was a shell… It freaked me the hell out.”

“I had no idea you were going to be there,” he said again. “I… I felt like I was going to die when I saw you again…” He buried his face in Prompto’s thick, blond hair and breathed him in over and over until he eventually calmed down.

“I’m sorry,” Gladio said again, sniffing, and pulling back. This time he was clearly apologising for the outburst of emotion. He leaned away, peeling his arms off Prompto and stepping back, turning away, smearing the tears off his face with the back of his huge hand. “I’m sorry. That wasn’t… I probably shouldn’t have done that. I didn’t mean to swamp you…”

Prompto stayed where he was, and gave a little chuckle. “It always was pretty easy for you to swamp me, big guy.” Gladio’s watery smile went right through him and he sighed, moving back towards the sofa in the little suite of rooms. He looked around again at the Spartan apartment, and said, “You live here?”

The shield nodded, also looking around.

“Doesn’t look much like your old apartment…” he probed. “Spend much time here?”

“I sold the apartment,” Gladio admitted, heading to the sink and running himself a glass of water which he downed in four enormous gulps.

“Oh.” Prompto was shocked. “But you loved that place…”

“No,” Gladio said darkly. “I loved _you_ in that place. Every corner had reminders of you in it. I couldn’t walk past any of it without thinking, ‘that picture covers up the re-plastering where I put my fist through the wall the first time you turned me down’, ‘that’s where I sent you the text that got you to meet up with me for drinks’, ‘that sofa is where Prom and I first kissed’,” he broke off and rapidly covered the soft smile with an abashed expression. “Anyway. Too many ghosts.”

“I understand. But…” Prompto was still looking around the tiny barracks apartment. “Where’s all your shit?”

“Most of it’s in my dad’s cellar,” he admitted.

Prompto stood and felt Gladio’s eyes on him as he took himself for a tour of the small set of rooms.

The main space was the open-plan living room and kitchen area where they were currently standing, and leading off from the living room end was a double bedroom with an en-suite shower and bathroom. The room next door to that was supposed to be another bedroom he guessed, but it was almost entirely empty, except for a heavy bag braced to the wall and a large mat in the centre of the room. “No spare bed?” Prompto asked without thinking.

“No need,” he replied dryly. “Use it for meditating and working out.”

“Like you haven’t got an entire gym and training facility downstairs,” Prompto snorted.

“Sometimes I need to be alone. Work my shit out alone.”

Prompto nodded, remembering. “And the meditating? Does it still help?”

Gladio looked down, his eyes darkening. “Yeah,” he croaked. “Only thing that keeps me level these days really.” Then he snapped his gaze up and bored into Prompto with a question. “Did the prince tell you what happened between us?”

He nodded again.

Gladio shook his head in horror and said, “I can’t believe I did that… Can’t believe I actually snapped, and let myself get that angry.” He shivered visibly. “I could have killed him, Prompto.”

“Noctis said that Iggy stepped in…”

“Huh,” Gladio snorted venomously. “Stepped in? More like _cut_ in.” He raised his chin and Prompto’s blue eyes went wide when he saw a thin, pale scar, a few inches long on Gladio’s throat where his neck met his jaw.

“Gods, Gladio,” he said, darting over to him, nearly tripping over his own feet. The huge man turned his back on Prompto, unable to look at him. No, Prompto realised, he was unable to have _Prompto_ look at _him_. The little gunner’s hands went to Gladio’s thickly muscled neck and tried to turn his jaw round to face him. “It looks like he nearly garrotted you!”

His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed and he cast Prompto a sideways glance. “Close,” he admitted. “But Iggy’s always had perfect control…”

“Why did it scar? Didn’t anyone heal you?”

Gladio shook his head. “Once Ignis told him I wouldn’t die, that he’d missed all the vital parts, the prince…” he shuddered again.

“What?” Prompto asked, running his hand over Gladio’s broad upper back between his huge shoulder blades to comfort him before he’d even realised he was doing it.

“He was so angry – with good reason, I mean, I had just used the crown prince as a punch bag – but he just spat out the blood and said, ‘Leave him. No elixirs.’” Gladio bowed his head. “They stitched me up, and I was confined to barracks for a month.”

Prompto threaded his hands around Gladio’s torso again and held him, listening to the thunderous, racing heartbeat in his ribcage.

“My dad was… well, you know what the Amicitia anger is like in _me_ , so…” He brought his hands nervously to Prompto’s shoulders and ran his palms experimentally over them. Prompto nodded but didn’t speak. “He threatened to disinherit me, have me exiled… I thought he was really going to do it, but apparently the king talked him out of it.”

“The king?”

“Yeah. Turns out he knows a thing or two about affairs of the heart. He convinced my dad to help me instead of throwing me out on my sorry ass.”

“It’s a lovely ass.” Again Prompto found himself speaking without thinking, running his hand over the tense glutes he’d come to love so much. He laughed, then bit his lip, embarrassed when Gladio froze at his words and actions.

“Anyway,” the shield blustered, “Instead of tanning my hide, he brought me some help.”

“What kind of help?”

Gladio was silent for a long time, just breathing in and out. Then he finally said, “Someone to teach me to control my anger properly. I learned to meditate properly with him, and I do it every day.”

Prompto wondered if that was why he looked so empty all the time. So lacking in emotion.

They both sighed together. And finally Gladio asked the question that had been ringing in Prompto’s mind like a church bell. “So where does this leave us?”

“I don’t know,” he mumbled. “Honestly, I don’t know.” Late afternoon sunlight was pouring in through the small window, and he peered around Gladio’s huge arm and blinked. “You want to go for a walk?”

“Can’t,” he said, regret tingeing his tone to a deep blue. “The prince confined me to barracks again. I'm guessing that was to spare you from running into me accidentally…”

Prompto grinned, his freckles bunching up as his cheeks swelled. “Ah, but he made me into an all-access pass.”

“What?”

Prompto rolled his eyes. “He said you could go out if I went with you.”

“For real?”

Prompto nodded.

“Alright then,” he said. “Where are we going?”

The smaller man pulled back out of Gladio’s arms and crossed to the hallway where he’d kicked his boots off on entering the apartment.

“Prom?” Gladio’s voice was tense and wary.

“You’ll see.”

Gladio seemed to soften under the weight of his own fond curiosity, and let Prompto lead him back out through the barracks, ignoring the way the Glaives and Crownsguards parted for him like he had the plague. Once they were outside, Prompto cast him a furtive look and nodded back towards the barracks. “They always like that with you?”

“Lately, yeah,” he said, rubbing the back of his head, disturbing his damp ponytail. He took the leather cord out and ran his fingers through the thick, dark hair before pulling half of it back and tying the top section up again, letting the rest fall down past his collar.

“Your hair’s longer,” Prompto commented.

“Hmm? Oh, yeah,” he said, pulling a bit of it forward and twisting it between his scarred fingers. “Haven’t bothered to have any of it hacked off in a while.”

Prompto nervously bit his lower lip and looked up at the tall man. Then, in a rush, he slid his hand into Gladio’s and led him towards the palace gardens. His skin was warm, the callouses surprisingly smooth on his palms, and his fingers engulfed Prompto’s in a way that seemed at once infinitely familiar and anxiously new.

Gladio said nothing as he let Prompto guide him, only keeping his enormous hand tenderly locked around Prompto’s. He seemed afraid to speak in case he broke whatever spell had returned Prompto to him. Gravel crunched beneath his massive boots, and he appeared almost awkward as he stumped along beside the smaller man. Prompto’s fingers gave a twitch and he tried to yank Gladio off down a box hedge towards a very familiar landmark. Gladio being the size he was, didn’t move an inch.

“Prom…” he said, his voice no more than a harsh whisper. The fountain in the centre of the gardens was sparkling and sending light dancing wildly as the water splashed in the last light of the day.

“You remember that night?”

“Remember? Gods, how could I forget?” Gladio gave a chuckle. “You looked…” he shook his head, smiling and sighing, and looking at his big boots for a moment.

“Devastating, I know, you can say it,” Prompto grinned. “Come on.” And Gladio let him tug his body into motion again.

After no more than a single stride, the shield’s honey-coloured eyes flicked intently up to Prompto’s face for a moment. “Yeah. You did. I was completely undone by you that night.”

“In more ways than one, if memory serves,” Prompto shot back, and a snort erupted from Gladio’s nose before he could stop it. He didn’t relax the tension in his huge shoulders though.

Beside the fountain, Gladio’s expression shifted and sadness tugged the corners of his eyes down. “Prom, look,” he said, scuffing his heel on the gravel. “I know I said this a million times before you left, but I didn’t know if you got any of those messages…”

Prompto had only been strong enough to listen to one, but he didn’t say so as he let the shield speak. This was it. This was the big speech. He could feel it.

“I know that saying it again now isn’t going to make it right, but I really am so sorry for the way I acted.” He inhaled deeply. “I was behaving like some kind of hormonal teenager that night in the club… I don’t really know what made me do it. A good soldier exercises self control in all things, but I got swept away by her when she came up to me, and suddenly she was kissing me. It was exciting, and wrong, and different, but that didn’t mean that I wanted it more than what I had with you. I don’t – didn’t – won’t ever…” he faltered.

Prompto swallowed nervously, but let him keep talking.

He puffed the air from his cheeks and shuffled nervously. Big long speeches weren’t his thing. “I just got swept up in the moment, and then it was just all out of control and I didn’t know _how_ to stop, and I didn’t have the balls to stop it… I was coward.”

Prompto’s heart clanged in his ribcage but he still didn’t say a word while the torrent of words just poured out of him.

Gladio shifted his weight uneasily as he eyed the fountain. Memories of Noct’s seventeenth party were clearly still waltzing round his memory. “I also know there’s nothing I can really say or do that will allow you to believe me. But I’m not that stupid, rutting boy any more. I know that there's never…” he stopped abruptly with a soft choke. He swallowed, and tried again, “That there’s never going to be anyone else for me, Prompto. There’s been no one else, all this time, and there never will be anyone if you…” he grimaced but forced himself to plough on. He was ever a man of action, not of words. That at least hadn’t changed. “If you decide you can’t trust me, or you don’t want this to go any further than today… whatever you decide… I need you to know that I’ll never be with anyone other than you. I swear it.” He said it the way he’d made the oath to Noct, and Prompto stopped breathing.

Gladio’s eyes were burning as he spoke, and as he stared into them Prompto was reminded strongly of the embers of a fire. He wondered vaguely if he dared stir things up by prodding through the ashes of their relationship. Maybe it was worth a go. It had only been a kiss. One stupid kiss. There was such sincerity in his eyes it was hard for Prompto not to believe him, not to be moved.

Before he could speak, however, Gladio was turning away from him, pacing the last few steps over to the fountain and plonking himself down on the stone rim with a huge sigh. He lowered his head to his hands and rested his elbows on his knees. It was as though the sudden rush of emotions after all this time had left him drained, like Noct in stasis.

Prompto made his decision. It was the easiest decision he’d ever made.

He sidled up to him and, with the back of his hand, tapped Gladio’s forearm where it buttressed the great weight of his head up. He looked up at Prompto, the whites of his expressive eyes tinged with pink, and shot him a quizzical frown. Prompto grinned, bounced on the balls of his feet, and swatted Gladio’s arm out of the way. He turned his back on him and fell backwards across his lap like it was a trust exercise. The big man caught him softly and, eyes wide in shock and apprehension, he held him there rather stiffly, exactly as Prompto had landed. He swallowed. “Prom?” he asked.

Prompto sighed and looked up at Gladio, the thin white scar a few inches long just below his jawline catching his eye. He traced his fingers over the seam and watched as Gladio winced like he’d rubbed vinegar on an open wound. “I can’t forgive you for what you did,” he said. His voice sounded reedy and young, and it cracked with all the emotion that swirled in his chest. “But… I was kind of stupid to run away. I panicked. I want us to try and move forward…”

Gladio didn’t say anything, didn’t move, didn’t blink, didn’t breathe.

“Gladdy?”

“You mean it?”

Prompto nodded.

And then Gladio crumbled all over again. He didn’t cry, but he folded Prompto almost in half as he hugged him tight to his chest, nose in his hair, showering kisses down on his head, hands working over whatever bits of Prompto they could find without dropping him to the gravel. “Oh Prom,” he whispered.

Laughing properly for the first time in a very long time, Prompto endured the tickling, scratchy kisses until he had to move. He wriggled, swinging a leg up so that he was sitting astride Gladio’s massive thighs on the stone of the fountain, and he began to card his hands through Gladio’s hair as a new feeling rushed in to replace the tension between them.

When their lips connected, a deep, rumbling moan left Gladio’s lips and Prompto smiled behind the kiss. Gods, he felt good. Gladio felt good. _They_ felt good. He’d been wrong. They had to make this work. Gladio was _made_ for kissing him.

It wasn’t until a little while later that a terse cough from a few yards away forced them to spring apart like discovered school kids. Prompto yelped and looked over his shoulder to see a tall, slender man with ash-grey hair and glasses, standing cross-armed beside none other than the prince.

“Ignis, Noct,” Prompto said, blushing a deep, hot scarlet from his shoulders to his ears. He leapt out of Gladio’s lap like a startled frog, and Gladio instinctively, and without even looking at him, shot his arm out to steady him and stop him toppling into the fountain.

The prince looked so stern that Prompto thought he was going to confine _him_ to barracks as well, but then he parted his lips and said dryly, “Looks like you’ve worked out your differences ok…”

Prompto, still blushing a furious crimson, found himself stammering, “Y-yeah, I mean… we… we’re not sure what we’re gonna do, b-but… I think…”

Noct’s hoarse chuckle cut him off and he said, “I’m glad.” He turned his sapphire eyes on his shield, the warmth cooling only a little, and said, “Who knows, if Prompto can move on from what you did, what’s to say I can’t?”

“Highness,” Gladio said, standing to give a formal bow, bringing his fist to his heart. “I’d like that.”

Noctis looked intensely at Gladio while sliding his hand into Ignis’. The advisor jumped a little in surprise, clearly not expecting a gesture so open, so public, but otherwise he said nothing, and stood holding him in a fond, firm grasp. When Noctis spoke again, his voice was even, and there was a growing glow of warmth to his tone. “I think Ignis is right, as usual. You’ve suffered enough. Time to move forward.” He and his advisor shared the briefest of looks before Noct turned to look at the other two again.

Gladio’s smile was weak as he straightened out of his bow, and it struck all of them how much he looked like a big, overgrown, vulnerable child. Prompto had only ever seen him as the strength of their group, the tank, the one who charged into situations with a great bellow and took the flack for the rest of them, but now the strong shield was broken. Time to start fixing everything.

Noctis seemed to see it too, because his shoulders slumped and he sighed. “Alright, I’ve got an idea. It’s a slow week for royal appointments this week, so why don’t the four of us take the Regalia and a couple of tents and enough gear and supplies for a few days, and just clear off into the bush and relax like we had always planned to?”

Prompto was stunned, and even Ignis looked a little taken off-guard by the suggestion, but it was Gladio who swore. “Fuck, Highness, you –”

Noctis held up his and Ignis’ hands with a wicked grin and said, “No, _fuck highness_ is Ignis’ job. You fuck Prompto, and Ignis fucks me, ok?”

There was a brief moment where the whole of Eos seemed suspended in time, and then, just like that, the tension snapped and all four of them fell about laughing, though perhaps it was Ignis who laughed least and blushed the most.

And so it was that the Regalia pulled out through the main gates of Insomnia that very afternoon, with Noctis in the front passenger seat, Ignis behind the wheel, and Prompto and Gladio wedged into the back. The Regalia’s trunk was full to bursting of camping, cooking, and fishing gear. Probably more than they’d need in a month, but it never hurt to be prepared. At least that’s what Ignis and Gladio seemed to think. Noct and Prompto were just happy to be happy again.

The sky above was blue and deep, but Gladio’s eyes were fixed on a different blue. He sighed a soft smile and lifted a strand of Prompto’s chocobo fringe out of his face. In a voice that was barely audible over the rumble of the Regalia’s engine, he said, “Thank you, Prompto.”

Prompto’s smile was the sun to the sky blue of his eyes, and Gladio gazed at him like it was all he ever wanted to see again for the rest of his life.

For the first time in Prompto’s life, he allowed himself to relax completely. New start. This was all going to be ok. “Missed you, Gladio,” he said, head lolling back as Gladio looped his arm around his shoulders.

 

 

***

 

 

_Thanks for reading my story! And thank you to everyone who has left kudos and commented. I might write a little one-shot of Noct’s 17 th which I mentioned in this, where, in my mind, Gladio and Prompto first realised they weren’t **just** friends… We’ll see. _

_In the mean time, I have a big old multi-chapter ABO Promptio on the go, and a Gladnis one-shot which just needs a bit of editing. That one is a bit different though. I took the idea of a canon disabled character of Ignis (later in game, obviously) but instead of making him blind, I had it so that he was present during the car accident in Noct’s childhood and he ended up with a spinal cord injury. He and Gladio are together, and very much in love, but Ignis is doing his standard thing of working himself into the ground and refusing to let anyone help him. Just an idea I had kicking around the dusty corners of my brain, and I scribbled it down in an evening. It’s about 7000 words, and just needs a final edit._

_Anyway, so long, and thanks for all the kudos :D_

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Kudos and comments would be gratefully received, but I'm just happy you stopped by and read this far down. x


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